10 And A Half
by Red Witch
Summary: Mayhem ensues when it is revealed that Krieger has created a different breed of robot. He's definitely been watching too many movies.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters or any other movie characters has been carried away by tiny robot people. Look, I watch a lot of movies. And I get a lot of weird, strange ideas. Especially when there's nothing good on TV. This is how things happen people!**

 **10 And A Half **

"God I'm **bored**!" Cheryl sighed as she leafed through a magazine with the headline ARSONISTS WEEKLY. "How long is Archer going to stay in that stupid coma anyway?"

"It's a coma Cheryl," Ray gave her a look up from his magazine, "Not a God damn weekend at the Ritz."

"That would be fun," Pam was reading a magazine in the bullpen as well. "Spending a weekend at the Ritz. Or at one of Cheryl's hotels again."

"Without Archer around the chances for death and destruction would be a lot lower," Ray thought aloud. "Still fifty-fifty with this group but that's still lower."

Just then Ray heard a scratching sound. "Did y'all hear that?"

"Yeah I've been hearing that for the past few days," Pam put down her magazine. "Sounds like we got rats in the walls."

"Nah, it's not rats," Cheryl shook her head. "The pauses between scratching are way off. As well as the foot patter."

"Foot patter…?" Pam blinked.

Cyril walked into the room quickly. "Okay did anybody see **anything** come in here? Something just grabbed my ball of elastic bands."

"Something? What something?" Ray asked.

"I don't **know!** " Cyril snapped. "Hence the word **something!"**

"It wasn't me," Cheryl said.

"I know it wasn't **you!"** Cyril snapped.

"Well then stop **yelling** at me!" Cheryl shouted back.

"Cyril why don't you just calm down and explain what happened?" Ray sighed. "Slowly…So that even Nancy Glue over here can understand."

"Okay I was doing some office work," Cyril ran his hand through his hair. "And rearranging my desk. I put my ball of elastic bands on my desk. But being a ball it rolled off. When I bent down to pick it up I saw **something** grab it and run out of my office!"

"When you say something…?" Ray began.

"Exactly how it **sounds**!" Cyril snapped. "I don't know what it was. All I saw was some tiny hands and something running fast out of my office."

"You mean like a rat," Pam suggested.

"No, not a rat," Cyril shook his head.

"Like a mouse," Ray suggested.

"No, it wasn't a mouse either," Cyril said. "It didn't have a tail and it was running on two feet."

"That rat in that Disney movie ran on two feet," Cheryl suggested. "Maybe it was him?"

"It wasn't a rat of **any kind**!" Cyril snapped. "After spending all these years with Krieger I think I know what a rat looks like!"

Then it hit them all. "Krieger!" They said as one.

"Yell-oo!" Krieger popped in the room. He had a small net in his hand. "What's up guys?"

"Apparently, the jig," Ray groaned. "Krieger is that your capture net?"

"Uh…" Krieger blinked and looked at his net. "Maybe?"

"Why do you have your capture net?" Ray glared at him.

"Because I can't find my electric one," Krieger said honestly.

"Oh dear God no!" Cyril groaned.

"Here we go!" Pam said at the same time.

"Seriously?" Cheryl barked.

"I apologize Cyril," Ray groaned. "When Krieger is involved it's definitely **something**!"

"So did you guys see anything?" Krieger asked.

"Yeah I saw something steal my rubber bands!" Cyril snapped. "A little two legged thing that looked like…It looked like it was made out of some kind of cloth."

"Krieger…" Ray asked. "Did you create Fraggles?"

"No!" Krieger denied it. "I didn't create Fraggles! That's crazy talk! I created Stitchpunks!"

"Of course," Ray groaned. "That's much **saner!** "

"Only you know…" Krieger shrugged. "I didn't use my own soul to power them like in the movie. Just miniaturized photonic power cells."

"What movie?" Mallory snapped as she walked in. "What the hell are you idiots talking about? Krieger why do you have your capture net out?"

"Krieger created some more robotic abominations," Cheryl said casually.

"Of course he did," Mallory sighed.

"Only five or six or eight or ten of them," Krieger said. "And they kind of escaped and they're living in the walls."

" **Of course** they are," Mallory groaned.

"And they're stealing office supplies," Cyril added. "Specifically, mine!"

" **Of course** they did," Mallory moaned.

"It's not like they can breed," Pam said. "Can they?"

"Well if by breeding you mean produce offspring sexually, then no," Krieger shook his head. "They're basically tiny robots. They can't breed."

"Good then…" Cyril sighed.

"However…" Krieger remembered. "They do know how to make more of their own kind by using materials stolen from my lab and odds and ends. Basically, whatever they find."

"Of course **they can**!" Mallory shouted. "Damn it Krieger!"

"What did he do **now**?" Lana asked as she walked in. "Krieger why do you have your capture net out?"

Just then something started to walk across the room. It appeared to be a little doll made of white and purple striped fabric with tiny camera shutters for eyes. And some purple strands on its head. It was carrying a makeshift spear made out of a pencil. It stopped, looked at the team. Then ran away quickly away around the corner.

"Oh…" Lana blinked. " **That's** why."

"Is **that** what you saw?" Ray blinked.

"No," Cyril said. "I think mine was brown."

"There's more than **one** of them?" Lana asked. "What the hell are they?"

"Krieger's homemade Stitchpunks," Pam sighed.

"What the hell is a Stitchpunk?" Lana asked.

"You never saw the movie 9?" Cyril asked.

"No," Lana shook her head.

"I did," Mallory spoke up. "But I don't remember seeing those things. Then again I sort of tuned out in the middle. I don't care what the critics say. That was not Daniel Day Lewis' best performance."

"No, not **that** movie," Krieger began. "It was…"

Just then two more little rag doll robots ran by. One was all white and looked like it was wearing a white fur coat. The other was covered in blue fabric carrying another spear like object.

"Were any of those…?" Ray began.

"No! It was brown!" Cyril snapped. "The thing that stole my rubber bands was brown!"

"Why are you racially profiling them?" Pam asked.

"I don't remember making a blue one," Krieger blinked. "No I definitely did **not** make a blue one."

"So they can make **new ones**?" Cyril asked.

"I believe I said that they had that ability, yes," Krieger told him.

"What exactly are those things?" Mallory snapped.

"Little robots called Stitchpunks," Ray said.

"They look like rag dolls poor children would throw away because they didn't want to be seen playing with them," Mallory snapped.

"I think they're cute," Krieger said.

"You watched that movie a few times, didn't you?" Ray asked.

"Nine times actually," Krieger nodded.

"Hooray for irony," Cyril said sarcastically.

"Were these things created before or after the Krieger Bots?" Lana asked with a sigh.

"At the same time," Krieger shrugged. "I was experimenting a lot and…"

"I DON'T CARE!" Mallory shouted. "How do we get rid of them? Krieger tell me you have some kind of self-destruct mode or whatever…"

"Ooh no," Krieger said. "That would have been helpful."

"What about a button to shut them off?" Ray asked. "Or some kind of remote control?"

"No, I didn't do that," Krieger shrugged. "Couldn't do that to those cute little guys."

"But you had no problem doing that to me…" Ray grumbled under his breath.

"So how do we catch these things?" Cyril asked.

"Well in the movie there was this other larger robot that sent a whole bunch of other robots…" Krieger began.

"NO!" Lana shouted. "NO MORE FREAKING ROBOTS!"

"I agree," Mallory glared at Krieger. "There are days I wish I left you in South America!"

"There are days we **all** wish you left Krieger in South America," Cyril gave Mallory a look.

"You know…?" Krieger began.

"I guess we're all going to have to catch these things the hard way," Cyril groaned.

"At least we'll have something to do this weekend," Cheryl said cheerfully.

"Nooooope!" Ray shook his head. "I know what this is going to end up becoming. It's going to end up becoming like a robot version of Tom and Jerry. And I am **not** going to be a Tom!"

Mallory raised an eyebrow. "Create your own jokes for this people. This one is too easy for me."

"You know…?" Ray gave her a look.

"But for once Ramona here has a point," Mallory went on. "I can't take this anymore. You people deal with it and then I am going to pretend that whatever this is **never happened**! My God! I have enough to deal with in my life! My marriage is on the rocks and I'm barely salvaging it. My status in high society has been destroyed. My contacts have shunned me. My money is disappearing faster than Charlie Sheen on a bender in Vegas…"

"Your son is in a coma," Ray added.

"That too…" Mallory groaned. "Just deal with this so I can **forget** about it!" She stormed out.

"Yeah I'm out too," Lana sighed following Mallory. "I've had more than enough robot shock for one lifetime."

"Fine!" Cyril shouted. "I'll handle it! As usual!"

"Since when do you handle **anything**?" Cheryl asked.

"Shut up Choker Face!" Cyril snapped. "Krieger! Catch your stupid creations!"

"I don't think they're that stupid," Krieger frowned. "They're smart enough to get out of a cage."

"JUST GET RID OF THEM BEFORE I GET RID OF YOU!" Mallory shouted from the other room.

"Okay fine," Cyril sighed. "Krieger do you have any ideas on how to catch your…What do you call them?"

"I was thinking of either Stitch Kriegers or Krieger Punks," Krieger told him.

"Kind of like Krieger Punks," Pam spoke up.

"Yeah but Stich Kriegers sounds more descriptive," Cheryl countered. "I mean they are basically dolls with motors in them."

"Either one will work," Ray shrugged.

"Well think of something that will work on _catching them!"_ Cyril snapped.

"I have a plan," Krieger said.

"This should be good," Ray rolled his eyes.

Twenty minutes later…

"I was right," Ray remarked as he looked at the sight.

There was a net hung up on a winch over a small pile of discarded metal parts. "It looks like a damn rip off of Mousetrap," Pam remarked. "And it probably won't work like that dumb game either."

"Wait, we're playing a **game**?" Cheryl asked.

"Cheryl honey," Ray sighed. "You have got to at least **consider** cutting back on the glue and gummy bear combos. I don't think your remaining brain cell can last much longer."

"You could help us you know?" Cyril shouted as he and Krieger did the finishing touches on their trap. Cyril had taken off his jacket and tie.

"I could but it's more fun to just watch," Pam snorted.

"Oh my God Ray it is just like a cartoon," Cheryl laughed.

"It is," Ray grinned. "Or like the Roadrunner cartoons. You know the coyote is going to fall off the cliff…"

"But you don't know how," Pam added. "The how is what keeps people entertained."

"Look this is simple," Cyril said. "One of the little robots comes along to pick up some of this junk…" He stood underneath the net. "We let go of the net…"

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

"What the…?" Cyril looked upwards.

FOOOM!

"WHAT THE…?" Cyril yelled as the net fell over him.

"Huh…" Krieger looked upwards. "I remember giving one of them scissor hands but not wings…"

"Meep, meep!" Ray said cheerfully.

"You didn't tell me they could **fly!"** Cyril shouted as he threw off the net.

"I didn't know either!" Krieger protested. "Wow they really evolved their programming in such a short time."

"All right obviously **that plan** will _not work!"_ Cyril fumed. "So will you people help me think of one that **will?** "

"Don't look at me," Ray shrugged. "I'm rooting for the Stitch Kriegers."

"Me too!" Cheryl grinned.

"I thought we agreed we were going to call them Krieger Punks?" Pam asked.

"There was no agreement," Cheryl said.

"Can you agree that we need to catch these little bastards before they escape and create God knows what kind of damage?" Cyril snapped. "The last thing we need is another exploding mouse situation."

"Or laser snakes," Ray added.

"This is more like the Krieglins on a smaller scale," Pam corrected. "Or multiple miniature Gobos."

"Or miniature hand crafted Krieger Bots," Krieger added.

"God…" Cyril groaned. "What does it say about us when we have **more** than **one** example of Krieger's creatures escaping?"

"Technically the Krieger Bots never escaped per se," Krieger corrected.

"I don't care about the technicalities!" Cyril snapped. "I care about catching those damn things!"

"I have a plan," Cheryl said. She left the room.

"This does not bode well," Ray blinked.

"Oh come on," Pam waved. "How bad could Cheryl's plan be?"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"I stand corrected," Pam groaned as they went to investigate.

"BANG! BANG! BANG! YEAH!" Cheryl shouted with joy as she shot up Mallory's office with a double-barreled shotgun. "YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!"

"NO! NO! NO!" Ray screamed as he and Pam tackled Cheryl.

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"Wow," Cheryl giggled at Mallory's destroyed chair. "Ms. Archer really can't have nice things can she?"

"Are you out of your God **damned mind**?" Ray snapped as he pulled the double-barreled shotgun out of her hand and stood up. "And as soon as I asked the question…"

"Oh my God!" Cyril groaned as he and Krieger arrived and looked at the damage.

"Boy is Ms. Archer going to be pissed," Krieger remarked.

"You **think?"** Cyril shouted. "Cheryl where the hell did you get a shotgun in the **first place?"**

"By a lampshade somewhere," Cheryl shrugged. Pam still held her down on the floor. "By the way I am loving this. Rarrrr!"

"Pam get off," Ray sighed.

"I will if you give us some privacy," Pam quipped.

"I knew I would regret saying that as soon as I **said it** ," Ray groaned. "But I said it anyway!"

"Cheryl, you can't just blow up any of my creations you see with a shotgun!" Krieger snapped.

"Oh I didn't see any Stich Kriegers," Cheryl shrugged as Pam let her up. "I just thought it would be fun to shoot up Ms. Archer's office. But yeah that would totally work on them too!"

"Okay here's the plan," Cyril said to the others. "Just tell Ms. Archer that Cheryl is responsible for all the damage and let her kill her."

"Good plan," Ray nodded.

"Well I have another plan," Cheryl said. "Krieger where are your flame-throwers?"

"NO!" Everyone else shouted.

"I have a better idea," Krieger spoke up. "I can create an EMP to shut down their electronics. Making them easier to catch."

"You are **not** using an EMP!" Ray snapped.

"Why not?" Krieger asked.

"Have you forgotten that **I** have bionic legs and a hand?" Ray snapped. "I have no desire to be paralyzed again!"

"Plus knowing you, your EMP will probably shut off half the electricity in town!" Cyril added.

"Yeah it probably would," Krieger chuckled.

Ray looked at Cyril. "I'm guessing you are also planning to throw Krieger to Ms. Archer's mercy? Knowing full well she has none."

"Exactly," Cyril nodded. "Now I'm going back into my office to get a drink."

"Maybe we can call an exterminator?" Pam asked.

"Oh sure," Cyril threw up his hands as he walked away. "I'll go look in the yellow pages an exterminator specializing in tiny robots!"

"I wonder what that would be called?" Cheryl thought aloud. "You're Terminated?"

"Terminator Terminators?" Pam suggested. "Sentinel Shooters?"

"Robo Cops?" Ray suggested.

"Good one," Pam nodded.

"AAAAAHHHH!" Cyril was heard shouting. "I DON'T FREAKING BELIEVE THIS!"

"Oh what fresh hell is happening **now?"** Ray grumbled as Cyril stormed back into the room.

"They cut up my jacket!" Cyril showed them. His brown jacket was cut up into pieces. "Why would they **do** that?"

"Raw materials I would guess," Krieger shrugged.

Pam laughed. "Oh man! Archer would have loved this! We gotta tell him about it!"

"Yeah, tell Archer about a miniature robot infestation at work," Ray gave him a look. "That will end well."

"Oh right," Pam blinked.

"All right!" Cyril angrily threw down his jacket. "That's it! It's personal now! We have to capture these little bastards and tear them apart bit by bit! Piece by piece! THEN MELT THEM DOWN FOR SCRAP METAL!"

"How about a glue trap?" Ray suggested. "You know, like they use to capture mice and rats?"

"That's not bad idea," Cyril said. "What could go wrong with that?"

Fifteen minutes later…

"Uggghglleeeugglllggg…" Cheryl was face down on the floor, stuck on the glue trap. She was partially covered in glue and she seemed very happy.

"Oh right," Cyril sighed. " **That's** what could go wrong with that!"

"Well it did catch **something,"** Pam shrugged. "Should we do something before she suffocates?"

"Honestly at this point I don't care," Cyril groaned. "Krieger, do you have that thing you were working on?"

"What thing?" Ray asked as Krieger entered the room. "Krieger what the hell is **that?"**

"The Krieger Magnet 9000 is ready!" Krieger held a large magnet on a stick. "All we have to do is turn this baby on and anything made of metal will be drawn right to us."

"Uh Krieger…" Ray gulped. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?" Krieger asked as he turned on the his magnet.

ZZZZUPPPMMMM!

"KRIEGER!" Ray shouted as Krieger's machine was stuck directly on Ray's ass.

"Oh, right," Krieger blinked.

Pam snorted with laughter. "Bet that's one time you **don't** want a guy on your ass, huh Ray?"

She wasn't the only one that was laughing. "What's that noise?" Cheryl blinked as she pulled the glue trap off her face. "It sounds like mice laughing."

"Mice don't laugh Cheryl," Pam said. "It must be…"

"THE LITTLE BASTARDS ARE LAUGHING AT US!" Cyril screamed. "THEY'RE LAUGHING AT **ME!"**

 **"You?"** Ray gave him a look. "HELLO?"

"Why are you so worked up about this?" Cheryl asked. "Aren't you used to it by now?"

"Krieger…" Ray growled. "Get this thing off my ass!"

"Things you say after a date!" Pam called out.

"Phrasing boom!" Cheryl called out.

"Sorry," Krieger turned it off.

"I guess I should be lucky that damn thing didn't screw with my CPU," Ray grumbled as he was unstuck.

"That's because I had it on low," Krieger admitted. "Maybe if I adjust the settings…?"

"That's it! I'm **out** of here," Ray sighed as he walked away. "I've reached my limit of crazy for the day. See you guys on Monday. And I am also talking to the little robot people…"

"Okay Krieger try it again when Ray's out of range," Cyril snapped.

"Uh Cyril maybe that's not…?" Pam realized something.

"Pam shut up!" Cyril snapped.

"I'm just saying," Cheryl began. "Even without Ray that might not be the best…"

"Pam! Shut up! I know what I'm doing!" Cyril snapped.

"I don't think you do," Pam said. "Because if you did you'd consider…"

"Turn it on Krieger!" Cyril snapped.

"Now?" Krieger blinked.

"Yes **now**!" Cyril said. "I think Ray is out of range."

"Are you sure?" Krieger asked.

"YES!" Cyril snapped.

"You know what's going to happen, right?" Pam asked.

"Why do you think I'm **for** this?" Cheryl giggled.

"Oh boy," Pam sighed. "I'm going to go hide behind a desk or something," She moved away.

"Krieger Magnet 9000 activate! FULL POWER BITCHES!" Krieger cackled as he turned his machine on.

ZOOOM! ZIIIIIP! WHIIIZZSHHHH!

ZIIPP!

WHOOOSH!

"Uh oh…" Krieger gulped as several metal objects headed right towards them.

WHOOSH! WHHHOOOM! WHAM!

"OW!" Cyril yelled as a stapler hit him in the head and knocked him down.

"OW! OW! OW! OW!" Krieger shouted as several metal objects flew towards him. And hit him.

"EEEEEEE!" Cheryl jumped up and down amidst the flying debris of pens, staplers, small coins, and other metal objects.

WHAM!

Like a metal chair that hit Cyril. "KRIEGER!" Cyril shouted.

"Yeah I…" Krieger began.

WHAM!

"Owie…" Krieger groaned as a lamp hit him in the head and he went down.

"TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF! OW!" Cyril yelled as another metal chair hit him.

Krieger eventually turned it off. "Still a few bugs in the system…" He said weakly.

"YOU THINK?" Cyril shouted in pain. He had a slight cut on his forehead.

"That's why I hid behind a wooden desk you ding dongs!" Pam popped out.

"Awww, I didn't get hit," Cheryl pouted.

"Not…One…Word," Cyril growled at Pam.

Pam snorted. Cyril glared at her. "Technically that wasn't a word," Pam defended.

Half an hour later…

"Here robot, robot, robot…" Cyril walked around the office with a bandage on his head and a capture net in his hands. "Come out little robot."

"Okay…" Pam sighed to the others as they looked around for the tiny robots. "Cyril is starting to lose it here."

"That would imply he ever **had it!"** Cheryl quipped. "Am I right?"

"And I always thought it would be Archer that would drive him around the bend," Krieger said. He had a bandage on his forehead as well.

"Me too," Pam said.

"This is the ultimate challenge," Cyril had a wild look in his eye. "Man verses machine. It's the way it is, and the way it will always be! With Man coming out on top!"

"Cyril, are you okay?" Pam asked in a worried tone. "Do you want to lie down or something?"

"I'm fine! Just **fine!** " Cyril laughed. "Cheryl gave me something and I feel grrrrreeaatt!"

"Okay Tony the Tranked Up Tiger," Pam said. "Just making sure you're okay."

"Oh I'm fine," Cyril had an insane grin on his face. "I'm just fine. Just fine! And I'll be better when we have barbecued robot stew! HA HA HA!"

"You gave him an LSD breath strip, didn't you?" Pam looked at Cheryl.

"Maybe?" Cheryl giggled. "And one or two of my groovy bears."

"Should have left with Ray," Pam sighed. "Damn it. I really need a better social life."

"I need my electric net," Krieger said. "I lost it in my lab. I was sure I left it on the counter…"

"And when I get those little bastards," Cyril began to cackle. "I'm not gonna shoot 'em, No, I'm not going to shoot them. I'm gonna open up their little guts and use them to grease the copy machine. Or Milton. Maybe mount one as a trophy? He he…"

"O-kay," Pam blinked. "Cyril, how about we split up? I'll take Dr. Kraut-en-stein and Chokey over to the break room. You…go do what you've been doing."

"Good idea," Cyril nodded. "We'll outflank 'em! Call in when you find something!"

"On what?" Cheryl blinked.

"Let's just go…" Pam pushed her away.

Soon the three of them were in the break room. "Okay let's look," Pam said. "Starting with the refrigerator." She opened the door and started taking drinks out.

"And by looking…" Krieger said. "You mean we're taking a break and having a drink while Cyril has a meltdown?"

"Duh!" Cheryl said.

"Eh," Krieger shrugged. "Pass me the scotch."

Meanwhile Cyril was roaming the darkened hallways. "This isn't personal…It's just what has to be done. I have to do what I have to do. And what I have to do is catch tiny robot people."

"A man…free to kill tiny robots at will. To kill, you must know your enemy. And in this case…my enemy…is basically a toy varmint. And a varmint will never quit. Ever. They're like the Viet Cong. But they're not the Viet Cong. Because they're not really people at all. They're basically toys. Toys that are varmints. Toy Varmint Cong. TVC. They're not people. They're the TVC."

"Cyril Figgis verses the TVC. Kind of sounds poetic in a way."

"So Figgis you have to fall back on superior intelligence and superior firepower. That's all she wrote."

"Well and your size of course. You are bigger than they are. So that's a huge advantage right there. But it's still you against the TVC. Man verses machine. The ultimate confrontation!"

"Oh my God," Cyril blinked. "Archer **was right** about robots. He was just wrong about the size."

"Of course, Archer would be disappointed because he would think it would be like John Connor verses the Terminator. When it's really more like the Empire verses the Ewoks."

"Technically that analogy doesn't even **apply** since Ewoks weren't robots," Cyril realized. "So I guess the closest analogy would be that movie Phil Hartman did with the toys that came to life and burned his house down."

Cyril took a breath. "Reason we can **never tell** Archer about this incident Number Five!"

"Six if you count the argument we'd have over whether Small Soldiers was a good movie or not."

"Actually, it could go either way. It clearly had its moments and any movie with Phil Hartman…"

Then Cyril heard a noise in the copy room. "I'll be back…to this argument." He cautiously went into the darkened room. He saw a single pair of tiny glowing eyes under the copy machine.

"Here little robot," Cyril said holding his capture net. "Come out, come out wherever you are. Come on. We all know how this is going to end. I mean come on. I'm almost six feet tall and you're only what? Six inches? There's no way I can…"

CLICK!

WHOOSH!

THUD!

"Lose…" Cyril's eyes crossed as he was hit in the head by a primitive swing trap made out of string, paper clips and a very sturdy lamp. "Night. Night." He fell to the floor.

As Cyril fell unconscious, several tiny figures with glowing eyes and tiny spear like weapons surrounded him.

Back in the break room…

"Should we check that out?" Krieger asked as he heard the noise.

"No," Cheryl and Pam said as one as they kept drinking.

"No one ever won a war by dying for his country," Cheryl quoted. "They won the war by getting some **other poor bastard** to die for his country."

"Amen to that sister," Pam clinked her drink with Cheryl's.

Let's go back to Cyril, shall we?

"Oh God no…" Cyril moaned as he came to. "God, I hate my life…"

He realized that he was tied up in the copy machine room with ropes and some elastic bands. And several little Stich Kriegers were surrounding him. "So, this is how Gulliver felt? Great. Just great."

Cyril realized something. "And I'm betting those other assholes haven't even noticed I've been captured, have they? They're just screwing around the breakroom drinking, are they? Typical!"

He looked at the little robots. "Well what are you waiting for? Get it over with! You might as well! I'm already dead inside!"

That's when the robots looked at each other in stunned disbelief.

Meanwhile back in the break room…

"Is it me or has it been pretty quiet for a while?" Krieger asked as they were drinking some more. Scotch and beer bottles were all over the place.

"Depends," Cheryl was also munching on groovy bears. "Does anyone else hear that radio playing Tijuana Taxi?"

"What radio?" Pam blinked.

"Never mind," Cheryl began to hum along with the song in her head.

"Uhhhh…" Krieger blinked.

"Just let her listen to the noise in her head," Pam waved it off.

Meanwhile back in the copy room…

"It's just nobody ever listens to me," Cyril wailed. "I'm the head of this freaking agency! But does anyone **care**? No! All I want is just a tiny bit of respect! And Lana back again obviously. And money. Yeah money would be great. But the respect is **first** on the list!"

"Okay technically the first thing I want is for Archer to drop dead. But right now I'll settle for some respect."

"Okay maybe drop dead isn't exactly what I want to happen to Archer. Spontaneously combust in a horribly painful way. That's technically accurate but I'll settle for dropping dead."

"You have no idea what it's like for me around here!" Cyril wailed. One of the Stich Kriegers patted his head. "The others think they're soooo cool and they can just walk all over me! Like…like…"

Back in the breakroom…

"A human doormat," Cheryl said. "But this doormat is the type of doormat that **other** doormats use. Like a doormat's doormat."

"Oh yeah I totally see that," Pam nodded before she took a drink.

"Definitely describes Cyril," Krieger agreed.

Back in the copy room…

"Every day it's the same damn thing," Cyril grumbled. The Stich Kriegers had untied him and gave him a bottle of scotch. _"Cyril do this! Cyril do that! Cyril fix the budget while I steal enough funds to drink some expensive champagne while my useless son lounges around in a coma!"_

"I do all the work around here but do they appreciate it? **No!** They insult me and berate me and make my life a living hell! A nightmare which never ends! They think they're all such hotshots and since I'm the little guy they think I just have to take it!"

Cyril looked at the Stitch Kriegers. "You guys know what I'm talking about right?" They nodded. "I thought so. They just treat me like shit and think they laugh at me behind my back!"

Cyril had a wild look in his eye. "And its time I did something about it…"

Shortly later…

"Guys were we supposed to do something?" Cheryl asked hazily. She was drinking her fifth beer. "I feel like we were supposed to do something."

"Probably," Pam burped after her seventh beer.

"I think we were supposed to look for Cyril or something…" Krieger hiccupped. "Wow. Probably should not have had one of Cheryl's groovy bears with my drink."

"I had like three already so yeah," Pam snorted. "I'm feeling the buzz."

"God you people are lightweights," Cheryl laughed. "I have to have at least a handful or two to get a decent buzz. Pussies."

"Hang on," Pam narrowed her eyes. "You take a handful or two of LDS type drug filled candy **every day**?"

"No," Cheryl waved. "I'm up to half a bag a day now."

"That explains a few things," Krieger remarked.

"When we were drug dealers or something I upped my dosage, and added some cocaine for extra effect," Cheryl went on. "You know behind Pam's back because she was eating all of it and wouldn't share!"

"And that explains your memory loss of that period," Krieger groaned. "As well as your continuing deterioration into complete and total madness."

" _Continuing_?" Pam laughed. "I think that train pulled into **that** station a long time ago!"

"Oh my God!" Cheryl gasped. "I just remembered! I own a train! Guys, we should totally take a ride on my train! Into Canada! With my ocelot! And maybe some Mounties?"

"We already did that you ding…" Pam began when a series of beeps and boops interrupted her.

Milton rolled in beeping. "What is it Milton?" Cheryl asked. "What is it boy?"

Milton spun around twice and went out the door. "I think he wants us to follow him!" Cheryl said excitedly as he got up.

"I think he wants you to go to rehab," Krieger quipped as they left.

"Okay Milton what's going on?" Pam began as they entered the copy room.

"What are we standing on?" Cheryl noticed.

"Hey is that my electric…?" Krieger began.

ZZZZZZZZZZZAP!

"Net…?" Krieger coughed before he passed out with the others.

"Best weekend…ever," Cheryl giggled before she fell unconscious.

Sometime later…

"Ugh…" Pam groaned. "Now I know how microwaved bacon feels."

She discovered that she and the others were tied up on the floor of the bullpen. And all their hair was frizzed. "Hey Ding Dongs! Wake up!"

"But Mother," Cheryl yawned. "I don't **have** to go to school today. It burned down. No, I didn't do it! This time."

"Whazzat?" Krieger was woozy and his beard was sticking out all over the place. "What are we doing? Are we just jumping into this? Hey did you see my electric net?"

"I think **they** found it," Pam indicated with her head.

"Oh," Krieger gulped as they were surrounded by hundreds of Stich Kriegers with tiny spears and weapons. "This could be problematic."

"Krieger, I thought you said there was like only about 10 of these guys!" Pam snapped. "There must be at least a hundred of these little bastards!"

"Clearly, I underestimated their ability to replicate themselves out of spare parts," Krieger remarked.

"YOU THINK?" Pam shouted.

Milton beeped and booped and threw toast around. The Stich Kriegers cheered with joy.

"Et Tu Milton?" Krieger snapped.

"Of course, Milton would side with the robots! He's a machine too!" Pam snapped. "DUH!"

"We so cannot tell Archer about this," Krieger groaned.

"Yeah I don't want to hear his smug ass 'I told you so's' either," Pam admitted. "He can be just as bad as Lana. This can't get any worse."

"HI YA HAAAAAA!" Cyril jumped out. He had red and yellow body paint on. He had taken off his shirt and was wearing only his sweater vest and a loincloth made up of newspaper. He had some kind of wooden spear in his hand.

"I was wrong," Pam groaned.

"Is that my spear?" Cheryl asked. "Did you steal my spear?"

"When did you get a spear?" Pam asked.

"From my house! Duh!" Cheryl snapped. "My relatives stored all kinds of weird shit all over the place. I just shipped some stuff from Tunt Manor and Fed Exed it."

"Hang on," Krieger said. "So, you brought a **spear** into the office? Why would you do that?"

"Because you don't let me have any scissors!" Cheryl snapped.

"HEY! IDIOTS!" Cyril snapped as he waved his spear. "I'm in the middle of a rant here? Do you **mind**?"

"Cyril what the hell are you **doing?** " Krieger snapped. "You look like…Damn it. I had something for this."

"Lord of the Open Fly," Pam quipped.

"Oh that's better than what I had," Krieger admitted.

"I have joined the people!" Cyril snapped.

"What people?" Cheryl asked. "The Village of Idiots People?"

"We had such potential," Cyril went on. "Such promise. But we squandered our gifts, our intelligence…"

"Good news," Pam quipped. "You didn't squander **that** much."

"Our blind pursuit of technology only sped us quicker to our doom!" Cyril howled.

"Well he's not wrong there," Cheryl said.

"Man has a point," Pam said. "Thanks a lot Krieger!"

"Yeah! Thanks!" Cheryl said sarcastically.

"How is this **my fault**?" Krieger snapped.

"You made the damn robots in the first place!" Pam snapped. "That is how this is your fault!"

"Oh," Krieger said. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that."

"Our world is ending," Cyril waved his arms. "But life must go on…"

"Well that's debatable," Pam groaned. "Depending of course on **whose life** we're talking about."

"We will rise from the ashes and begin again!" Cyril whooped. The Stitch Kriegers cheered him on.

"Okay so clearly Cyril has lost his mind," Krieger remarked. "Funny, I thought Cheryl would be the first to snap."

"It's the source! The source!" Cheryl squealed. "You're right! You're right! Society is doomed! Doomed! TAKE ME WITH YOU! I WANNA GO TO TINY ROBOT LAND!"

"Oh **there** she goes," Krieger blinked. "Okay guys, I love a good robot rebellion as much as the next guy. But this is getting way out of hand. Even by my standards."

"I thought you didn't have any standards," Pam asked.

"I don't," Krieger shrugged. "So that's saying something about our situation."

"Shut up!" Cheryl snapped. "Don't disparage our tiny robot supervisors!"

"She went from zero to Patty Hearst in point three seconds," Pam sighed. "That has got to be a new record. Okay it's time I take control of this…"

With a burst of strength Pam freed her bonds. "RARRRRR!" She stood up. "Okay! First I'm gonna kick your ass, Cyril! Then I'm gonna…"

Then she noticed that some of the Stich Kriegers were standing on a table holding a large bottle of scotch up to her.

"Oh. Thanks," Pam blinked and took the drink. "Thanks for the forty, shorty."

"PAM!" Krieger shouted. Pam held up her finger as she took a drink. "PAM!"

"Good hootch," Pam burped. "You know? On the other hand, these little bastards have a point."

"WHAT?" Krieger shouted.

"Oh come on Krieger," Pam said. "Society has already gone down to the third or fourth layer of Hell. So why not change things up a little?"

"You're siding with them just because they gave you **booze**?" Krieger shouted.

"Hey it's more than the government ever did," Pam shrugged. "Okay little guys, I'm with you!"

"YAY!" Cheryl cheered. "HOORAY FOR SOCIETY'S DOWNFALL!"

"LET'S BURN IT ALL TO THE GROUND!" Cyril whooped.

"BURN IT!" Cheryl squealed.

"Great," Krieger sighed. "My co-workers have Stitchpunk Stockholm Syndrome. Ah screw it."

Krieger sighed as he looked at the Stich Kriegers. "Okay you win. Now get me some booze and untie me. In that order, actually."

That's when things started to get weird.

Ten minutes later…

" _Stich Kreigers, jump on it! Jump on it!"_ Krieger, Pam, Cheryl and Cyril danced around a bonfire made out of a table in their underwear. The Stitch Kreigers were wildly dancing around with them. "WHOO WHOO WHOOOOO!"

And then things got really weird.

Monday morning finally arrived…

"And that's when I decided it was best for my health to get the hell out of there," Ray said to Lana as they went to the door of the Figgis Agency.

"Can't say I blame you," Lana told him as she went to unlock the door. "Huh the door is already unlocked."

"Well that's never a good sign," Ray groaned.

They walked in and saw that the strobe lights were going on and off. "Ray turn that thing off," Lana winced.

"Got it," Ray did so. Then he got a look at the agency. "Dukes!"

The agency was a mess. Broken furniture, food, gummy bears and toast was everywhere. As well as paint and orange smudges on the wall. Toilet paper and underwear was draped everywhere. And newspapers were shredded and scattered all over the floor and surviving furniture. And of course, empty bottles of scotch and booze were found in every corner.

Milton was calmly spinning around, occasionally spouting toast. He had some paint marks too.

"It looks like a rave went on in here," Ray looked around. "Are those little tiny handprints on the walls?"

"Looks like," Lana said. "And some big ones. Made out of…cheese doodles?"

"Cheese doodle dust," Ray corrected. "I am **not** cleaning this up!"

Lana winced. "Do I smell smoke?"

"That's usually the result when someone burns a table," Ray pointed. "God damn they did have a rave here."

"And possibly an orgy," Lana pointed. Their co-workers were lying naked and unconscious on the floor. And they had paint marks all over their bodies.

"Well it's not like it's the first time something like this happened," Ray quipped.

"I think that's the problem," Lana groaned.

"Uhhhggggh…." Pam slowly sat up dazed. "God damn it. I feel like another different cat took a dump in my mouth."

She then noticed Lana and Ray. "Hey guys," She said, completely nonchalant about her nudity. "How was your weekend?"

"Not as interesting as yours," Lana looked around.

"Do I even **want** to knowwhat went on here?" Ray sighed.

"Uh…." Pam looked around. "Well…After you left Ray. Things got a little weird."

"No shit," Ray said. "What the hell happened?"

"The Stitch Kriegers captured Cyril then brainwashed him onto their side somehow," Pam explained. "Then they captured us. Using Milton who double crossed us. Cheryl then went nuts. I broke free but the little guys gave me booze and the next thing I know we were having a rave. And possibly an orgy. After the fire dance my memory's a little fuzzy."

"And a bonfire?" Ray pointed to the burned table.

"Hey you can't have a decent rave without dancing around one half naked drunk out of your gourd," Pam shrugged.

"I'm not even going to ask how tiny little robots brainwashed Cyril," Lana groaned. "Then again it's probably not that hard for pretty much anything to brainwash Cyril."

"And Cheryl," Pam added as she grabbed a nearby bottle of scotch. "Hence the going nuts part."

"That's not much of a stretch either," Ray admitted.

"And neither is the part where we all got drunk," Pam admitted as she scratched her head. "Gotta admit it was a hell of a party. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the little bastards slipped us a few mickeys. Huh. What do you know? There is such a thing as artificial intelligence."

"And no **human intelligence** around here," Lana groaned.

"So what happened after **that**?" Ray asked.

"I don't know," Pam groaned as she took a swig of scotch. "After Dances With Stitchpunks passed out the party sort of fizzled. And the little guys just decided to up and move away to God knows where."

"So basically, this was a typical drug induced drunken weekend?" Ray asked.

"Pretty much yeah," Pam sighed.

"All right idiots," Mallory walked in. "Why is my office destroyed?" She then did a double take. "And what fresh hell is **this?"**

"Take a guess," Ray rolled his eyes.

"I'd rather not," Mallory groaned.

"Good news, we no longer have a little robot problem…" Pam said. She looked around. "Bad news, we all definitely have an alcohol problem."

"I swear to god I just figured out **why** Sterling is staying in the coma," Mallory stormed away. "Whatever his deranged dream world he's conjured up can't be half as insane as **this one!"**


End file.
